Live by The Sword
by Stayce
Summary: On the eve of a historic treaty signing between some of the worlds most significant nuclear powers, Kim Bauer, Tony Almeida and the staff of the New York CTU branch find themselves facing a plot that could drag America into a costly war.
1. Prologue: Questionable Methods

**24**

LIVE BY THE SWORD

DISCALIMER: Any of the characters featured in this work from the TV series 24 are not my property. They belong to 20th Century Fox, Imagine Entertainment and whoever else owns the property. I'm only playing/torturing them for my own amusement and promise to put them back relatively unscathed (yeah, right!) when I'm done.

Authors Note: First of all, to all you avid 24 fans this story may surprise you a little. Why? Well, if all goes well this should workout as a nice 24 style plot but with no Jack Bauer. I can see all you die hards turning away in disgust right now J, especially since this will focus on a lot of original characters with only partial appearances by a few series regulars and only two mainstays really figuring into the story (Tony and Kim). For anyone who wants (or even remotely cares) to know my reasons for this I've included a longer Authors note at the end of the prologue. Also I'm English and have never been to New York. I'm relying mainly on online maps and brochures etc to find out more about the city and its geography so please don't bite my head off if I mangle the city a little. One final point to make is that as of the time of writing I have not yet seen all of season 3. This may slow the development of some early chapters since I want to see what happens to the characters before I try and do too much with the story.

Quick plot points: Set in New York some two years after the end of season 3. This story is very much an AU piece, a possible direction the 24 universe could develop. As for the rest, you'll see when you read. Anyway enough of my rambling, let's get on with the show. I hope you all enjoy and of course, feedback is always welcome.

PROLOGUE: QUESTIONABLE METHODS

_New Dehli: 7:39pm_

Aadil collapsed behind the pile of crates, his breath rattling emptily in his chest as he clutched at his leg. Blood pumped heavily from the bullet wound in his thigh, its coppery scent tingling in his nostrils. Slowly, gritting his teeth against the pain, he gripped the side of the nearest crate and heaved himself up to look around the room. The only movement came from the shadows cast by the rows of crates, each one lengthening by the moment in the light of the sinking sun.

Despite the pain in his leg, Aadil gave a soft chuckle. He'd lost him! Now all he had to do was lie low for a couple of minutes to catch his breath before he attempted to move again.

Carefully, so as not to jostle his injured leg, he lowered himself back to the floor and began to tug at his shirt sleeve. The sound of the fabric tearing seemed to be amplified ten fold by the oppressive silence. He paused for a moment. Had he just heard something move in the floors below? A creaking floorboard? Perhaps a response to his own clumsiness? He sat in the gathering darkness, trying his best to ignore the pain in his leg as he strained his ears for even the slightest noise. The only sound that answered him was his own laboured breathing. Finally he gave a dismissive shake of his head. He'd always had a paranoid streak a mile wide. It had been what had kept him alive so long in the first place. Under the circumstances though, he could hardly blame himself for his caution.

Gathering the ripped sleeve in his hand, he proceeded to tie it around his thigh just above the bullet wound. He gingerly tied the knot and gritted his teeth against the pain as he quickly tightened his makeshift tourniquet. A sudden jolt of agony lashed up his leg and into his spine, causing him to inhale with a sharp hiss.

As the pain subsided back to the numb ache that had troubled him before, he clambered back to his feet again, moving across the room as quickly as his injured leg would allow. The door to the stairwell loomed before him, a gateway to safety and salvation that beckoned invitingly in the failing sunlight. A satisfied smile spread across his face. He'd done it! He'd outwitted them at every turn and now it was too late. The plan was already in motion, and without him they had nothing!

He was taking his first tentative steps down the stairs when a bullet thudded into his shoulder, tearing painfully through his collarbone as it went. The impact span his body, his ankle twisting awkwardly beneath his weight to finally give out with an agonising crack that sent him tumbling down the first flight of stairs.

For a moment there was nothing but sweet blackness, a warm numbness that spread through his body. Then the pain came, chasing that blissful oblivion to the corners of his mind. His shoulder burned hotly from the bullet wound and his ankle and leg were both crying out in agony. He tried to move, but even the slightest shift in his position sent fresh streams of white-hot pain pulsing through him. It took him a moment to hear the footsteps, trapped as he was in his own private world of suffering. They were there though, clear and undisguised as they moved down the stairs toward him. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking in an attempt to get the hazy world around him to coalesce into something other than a messy smear of colour. Gradually his view cleared to reveal a man hunched over him, a silenced berretta hanging limply in his grasp.

Aadil let out a pained groan, much to the man's apparent amusement.

"I told you not to run." The man said, his tone chastising. Aadil could barely manage anything beyond the hollow rasping laugh that escaped his lips.

"It doesn't matter what you do to me." He croaked, tasting the blood in his mouth. "Our plan has already begun!" He felt a strong hand grip his jaw tightly, twisting his head to stare at the face of his attacker. There was a look of dark conviction in his eyes that made Aadil shudder.

"Which is precisely why you're going to tell me everything." The man said.

* * *

Authors Note: My reasons for the choices I made? Well first of all let's start with my choice of regulars to use.

Why Tony? First of all Tony has been possibly the most undervalued member of CTU by the shows writers since the series began. He has spent the last three years taking the brunt of the flak for decisions Jack has made. I thought it would be interesting to see him separated from CTU and his life there to really give him a chance to shine, hence my decision to involve him in this story.

As for Kim, I just got so sick of seeing the unimaginative treatment she was receiving. Whenever you need to motivate Jack, stick Kim in trouble no matter how implausible that trouble may seem. Also the love Kim, lose a limb syndrome suffered by two of her love interests so far was getting stretched. Ultimately Kim is a character who is too often superfluous to the shows requirements. I just thought it would be fun to give her the lion's share of the plot for once.

Why no other regular characters in prominent roles? Hell, if the writers can summarily ditch everyone but Jack from season 4 I don't see what's to stop me trying a similar thing J

Finally why New York? It's just a different location to take the action too. No one ever wondered why every serious terrorist threat is centred on LA?

EDIT: Changed the name of the character from Aadesh to Aadil. This will fit better later on and should now be of the correct ethnicity.


	2. Messages

_Authors Note:_ For Monkeydude, I would have e-mailed you this answer but I couldn't get your e-mail address. I should really have put this in the prologue note, but that was already running long and I know how long Authors Notes can turn people off from a story. This story will most likely take place over the course of a day, or up to a day and a half but no, it won't work on a one chapter equals one hour system. I did consider it, but in the end I decided it would be much more freeing to move time the way I felt it needed to move in the story. Also I can pace my chapters much better without having to worry too much about fitting everything into a precise 24 chapter limit. Anyway, I've now finished watching season 3 and am rather happy it didn't screw up my plans in any serious way. In fact it actually complemented them quite nicely! Read on and enjoy…

CHAPTER ONE: MESSAGES

_Four Days Later _

_New York City: 3:04pm_

The bags weighed heavy in Kim Bauer's hands as she lugged them up the flight of stairs to her apartment, the thin supermarket plastic rustling loudly to the accompaniment of her footsteps on the wooden floorboards. Today had been a good day. After three months of gruelling effort setting up the computer networks for the fledgling New York CTU branch, she'd finally earned herself a day off, a day she'd spent doing all the things she'd never had time to do until now. She'd toured some of the cities more famous landmarks, wandered around her new neighbourhood so that she could get her bearings and even done some shopping, something she was already beginning to regret as she mounted her third and final flight of stairs, the heavy bags banging against her legs as she moved.

There was someone sat at the top of the flight of stairs, his back propped up against one of the old carved wooden struts that supported the decorated ceiling, a broad shaft of mid afternoon sunlight spilling across his face. His eyes were closed, and he appeared to be snoozing, his chest moving in a deep easy rhythm as each breath disturbed the moat of dust particles in the air around him. There was no mistaking who it was either. That thick dark hair crossed with those handsome yet careworn features made him unmistakeable.

"Tony!" she said, her voice ringing with surprise. Tony Almeida's eyes opened quickly, spinning rapidly to face her.

"Hey Kim." He said, his face splitting with his trademark slanted grin. "How've you been?" Kim blinked. That she hadn't been expecting this was perhaps the understatement of the year.

"Never mind how I'm doing." She said as she began her ascent of the stairs again. "What are you doing out here?"

"Michelle told me you'd moved out here." Tony replied, sliding to his feet. "I was in the neighbourhood and figured I'd drop by."

Kim reached the top of the stairs and looked him up and down, trying her best not to look too wary.

"But aren't you…"

"Supposed to be in prison?" Tony said. Kim shifted uncomfortably as his smile spread even wider.

"Well, I didn't want to put it quite like that but…aren't you?" Tony raised his hands, in a gesture of mock surrender.

"No. You're looking at a strictly private citizen." He said.

"Really?" Kim said, a slow smile beginning to creep across her face.

"Really." Tony replied. Kim's smile split wide open as she dropped the shopping bags and ran to hug her former boss. At last some good news, even if it wasn't regarding her. Her life hadn't exactly been going that well these past few years, and it was a relief to see that sometimes things did work out better than they had a right to.

"Tony that's great. It really is." She said her voice nothing but genuine. Tony returned the hug in a decidedly less enthusiastic fashion. He'd always been a closed kind of guy and doubtless her sudden emotion was embarrassing him.

Slowly she untangled himself from him so as not to humiliate him further and moved for the door to her apartment.

"If you just give me minute to drop these inside and check my messages, then we can go for coffee or something, and you can fill me in on everything." Tony nodded.

"Sure. There's something I need to talk to you about anyway." He said as he crossed to stand in the apartment door, his eyes roving across the small living room.

"Nice place you got here." He said. Kim dropped the bags on the table in the small kitchen area.

"I should hope so." She called back as she crossed the room, a little embarrassed by the mess of previously worn clothes and various elements of her work that were strewn across the apartment. "It costs me enough in rent. That and this phone bill…" It took her a moment or two of hunting around the couch cushions to find her cordless phone, buried as it was beneath a collapsed stack of network bug reports. She quickly tapped in the code for her message service, her fingers drumming rhythmically against the plastic as she waited.

_"You have one new message"_ the automated playback spoke jarringly in her ear, its familiar patchwork audio grating on her nerves. There was a resounding beep and then the line went quiet save for the caller's breathing. Finally the caller spoke.

_"Kim? Kim you there?" _She froze, her whole body stiffening at the sound of his voice. Why couldn't he just stop calling? She didn't want to speak to him now. Everything was still too fresh, too painful.

_"Come on Kim, pick up the phone. I know you're there. You're cell phones off again, the way it always is. Please just pick up the phone and talk to me."_ The line went quiet again. She could feel them now, tears stinging her eyes and cooling her cheeks. She turned her back to Tony, desperately trying not to let him see her crying.

_"Please Kim. I just want to talk. I…I miss you." _There was a final click as the caller placed the phone back on its cradle, unceremoniously ending the message. It took Kim a moment to realise she'd been holding her breath. She let out a long slow sigh, sniffing slightly to cry and clear her mind. _'I miss you'_ was all she could hear.

The hand on her shoulder made her start.

"Kim? You okay?" She gave another sniff and nodded.

"Yeah." She said, cringing at just how pathetic her lie must sound. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" she nodded again.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seemed a little… I don't know, agitated?"

"It's nothing really. I'm fine." She turned to face him, wondering idly just how obvious her tears must be.

"Okay." Said Tony, not so much as batting an eyelid at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes. "You wanna go get that coffee now?" She gave a third, slightly more impassioned nod.

"Yeah, c'mon." she walked over to the door, grabbing for a thin tan summer jacket as she passed the coat stand while Tony followed close behind her.

"Who was that by the way?"

"Huh?" Kim frowned.

"On the phone just then. Who left you the message?"

"Oh…" she paused as she glanced back into the apartment. "Nobody important." She said before turning and setting off down the stairs.


	3. Early Warning

CHAPTER TWO: EARLY WARNING

_Airforce One on approach to JFK International: 3:27pm_

President John Keeler was tired, although exhausted would perhaps be the better term. Sat in his office as the presidential airliner readied itself for a final approach to awaiting airport, he was trying desperately to catch a few minutes rest before having to reveal himself to the viewing public yet again. He could feel the lethargy sweeping over him, his sleep deprived limbs becoming numb as he sank deeper and deeper toward slumber. A small, satisfied smile spread across his face. Since winning the office of president following David Palmer's dramatic, and to some, unexpected announcement of his decision to withdraw from the presidential race, sleep had not come easily.

He was beginning to admit a grudging respect for Palmer that he had never had before. While he had managed to avoid the early character attacks that had rocked the Palmer administration he had nevertheless suffered setbacks and scandal the likes of which he had never envisioned. His Vice President, Donald McArthur, had resigned within the first six months for health concerns. His abrupt departure so shortly after taking up the office had triggered a media feeding frenzy. Some of the more downmarket rags had even reported stories of incompetence and conspiracy to conceal the truth from the public. It had taken a press conference and a protracted inquest to determine that no cover up had been made and that McArthur had in fact resigned due to a recently diagnosed heart condition. Still the damage to his standing in the public eye had been significant and since then, Keeler had been struggling to regain public support.

Recently though, the tide had begun to turn in his favour and finally he was beginning to feel at ease again. In fact once START IV had been signed he was planning on a short vacation to ease some of the stress he had been under, something that would've been unthinkable a mere month ago. Yes, for the first time since he'd taken up office, his future as President of the United States was looking decidedly good.

He'd just drifted off to sleep when there was a knock on the door. Keeler gave a frustrated groan as he forced himself back into the land of the living, rubbing balefully at his eyes.

"Yes?" he demanded, trying his best not to sound like a crotchety old man who'd just been deprived of sleep. His personal aide poked her head around the door and flashed him a sheepish grin.

"I'm sorry Mr President, but I've got CIA Director Sikes on the line. He says it's urgent." Keeler gave a second more pitiful groan and hung his head in his hands.

"Put him through." He said. Common sense told him he wasn't about to get another shot at sleep.

_New York: 3:45pm_

Long shadows stretched lazily across the street as Kim and Tony sat beneath the striped awning of the roadside café, sipping their coffee in a bizarre silence as the world moved noisily by beside them. It was hardly the kind of reunion Kim had wished for, but then Tony was the last person she'd expected to come visit her. She'd moved to New York some three months ago, a last desperate bid to try and get her life back on track and escape the chaos that had dogged her every move within LA.

There was a time when nothing could've dragged her from LA. She'd loved her life there, a relatively happy teenage girl living in a city that catered to the adolescent dreams of so many people. Of course there had been the odd problem, things that had seemed so much more important at the time than they actually were in hindsight. Yes her dad hadn't always been there for her, and no, she and her mother had not always been on the best of terms, but then what family was perfectly happy? Things had just been coming back together again when her mother had died. From then on, it just seemed her life had tripped and stumbled in ever decreasing circles, springing an ever-worsening series of crises on her one after the other.

The last straw had been her relationship with Chase. After that complete fiasco, she'd made up her mind to get out of LA before it was too late, to start over somewhere fresh with as little baggage as possible. The offer of a transfer to the burgeoning New York CTU branch had come at just the right time. She'd had the right qualifications, the right experience and almost as importantly the right contacts. Her dad had helped of course, although it had taken some significant persuading and daughterly guilt tripping until he'd agreed. Despite his ardent protests to the contrary he could still be a little too overprotective at times.

"So…" said Tony, his voice breaking her from her silent reverie. "I hear you're in town as the chief network technician for CTU." It wasn't exactly the world's finest icebreaker, but then Tony was hardly the world's finest conversationalist.

"Yeah." Kim nodded. "It's really just a part time deal though. Once the network's up and running, I'll be transferred to the floor as a full time data analyst and technical advisor. We just don't have enough staff to cover all the bases at the moment."

"Uh huh." Tony nodded, taking another sip from his coffee as he gazed around the street.

"Um… so…" said Kim, desperately trying to keep the conversation flowing now they'd managed to get one started, "how's Michelle? I hear she's got HQ ticking over quite nicely these days." Tony's whole stance shifted at the mention of his wife's name, his eye line drifting from the street down to the table. He picked up his teaspoon and began to stir his coffee absently.

"She's doing fine." He said. Kim couldn't quite place his emotion. He seemed both wistful and bitter at the same time, the thought of Michelle obviously bringing both good and bad memories to the surface.

"Fine?" She said, her tone inquisitive. "I thought she'd be over the moon. I mean the last I heard you were serving a thirty-year sentence. Now you're free I'd have thought you two would be… well…" she could feel her face reddening under his steady gaze, that same steady gaze that had junior techs running for the hills every time it was fixed on them. She wracked her brain, trying desperately to think of the right way to put it.

"…inseperable." She said finally trying desperately not to wince at how terrible that sounded. Tony turned his attention back to his coffee, the silver teaspoon tracing circular patterns through the dark liquid again.

"Me and Michelle, we're…" there was a long pause, the only sound coming from the teaspoon as it clinked melodically against the sides of his cup. "Well we're separated." To anyone who didn't know him, they'd never have noticed anything wrong. Kim had worked with him for too long not to hear it though, that almost unnoticeable tremor in his voice. Tony was hurting in a way she'd never seen before.

"God Tony, I'm so sorry." She said. "What happened? You and Michelle seemed so steady, like nothing could break you." Tony shook his head.

"It hasn't been the same since, well, you know, since I was arrested." He scratched absently at the scar on his neck. "I think we just gradually stopped trusting one another. When you're apart for so long, sometimes you can't help but think the worst of what's going on."

"But you're out now. Surely you could figure something out. I mean she could get you work back at CTU and…" Tony was already shaking his head.

"No can do. Conditions of my parole. I can't seek employment with any government agency or defence affiliates." He gave a small wry smile. "I guess former traitors to their country just can't be trusted."

"I thought you had to serve at least ten years before there was even the possibility of parole." Kim said with a frown. Tony gave a forced chuckle.

"C'mon Kim, we all have connections. I mean, your dad's close friends with the former President! With those kind of strings being pulled, I was never going to serve time for too long." Kim gave a vague nod.

"I guess." She couldn't argue with his reasoning, but still, something wasn't right here. Even Tony didn't seem that comfortable with his own logic! If he was out on parole why had he come to visit her in New York? He might have been her ex boss but they had never been particularly close friends. Neither of them were the type to make friends easily these days. It all boiled down to one real question. Why was he really here? Why wasn't he back in LA trying to patch things up with Michelle? What was so special about her that he'd stopped by to see her? The more she thought about it, the less the pieces fit together.

She was about to call him on it when her cell phone rang, its piercing ring tone cutting through the tension between them like a knife. She cursed mentally. She'd meant to turn the damn thing off again! She gave an apologetic shrug as she tugged it from her pocket and flipped it open in one smooth motion.

"This is Kim." She said simply.

_"Hey Kim. It's Greg."_ Kim rolled her eyes as across the table from her Tony raised a quizzical eyebrow. Greg was one of the trainee technicians brought in to the New York CTU branch. She liked to think of him as fresh meat for the grinder. Within a day of arrival he'd pretty much installed himself as her unofficial assistant and worse still no one objected! It wasn't that she didn't like the guy. Far from it. He was quick efficient and really kind of sweet, but he was also a daydreamer and had been cursed with an over abundance of optimism, a combination of personality traits that Kim was beginning to find profoundly annoying.

"Hey Greg." She said, trying her best to keep the frustration at his interruption out of her voice and failing miserably. "What can I help you with?"

_"Is this a bad time?"_

"It could've been better." She admitted grudgingly.

_"I'm sorry Kim but this is really important." _He sounded worried, and what it took to get Greg worried didn't bare thinking about for most normal people. _"Queen Liz is going ape around here! She wants you in right away. Keeps yelling about how the shit's about to hit the fan!"_

"Greg, I haven't had a full day off since I started three months ago! The network's bedded in, the systems are practically bug free. What possible emergency would she need me for that the on duty techs can't handle?"

_"That's just it Kim. It's not about the network! She's calling in all qualified data analysts we have, but she specifically wants you. Says she needs someone with, and I quote 'more than a shit stain's worth of experience.'" _Kim winced at the coarseness of the language. It certainly sounded like Elizabeth all right. She gave a long resigned sigh.

"Okay Greg. I'll be there as soon as I can."

_"Just get here quick Kim. Something tells me she's not going to put up with any crap from you today."_ There was a click as Greg hung up the phone, leaving Kim blinking in surprise at just how quickly an otherwise good day had turned into a potential nightmare. 

"You leaving?" Tony sounded anxious. She couldn't help but wonder why.

"I've got to go." She said sliding back her chair and grabbing a napkin as she rose. "Something's come up and I need to get in to CTU." Tony nodded.

"Listen Kim, about my being here, there's something I should really have told you…" Tony began as he got to his feet dropping a few dollars to the table before following Kim across the sidewalk. Kim shook her head, not really listening as she tried to hail a cab. All she was thinking about was Elizabeth and just how bad this day could get if she was on the warpath.

"I'm sorry Tony but I really have to go." She said as the familiar yellow shape of a taxi pulled up out of the stream of New York traffic. She clambered in, scribbling frantically at the napkin with a pen she'd found in her inside pocket "Can we talk about this some other time? I'm in kind of a hurry."

"I guess…" Tony began, but was cut off by the sound of the cab door slamming.

"Thanks Tony." She said, her smile all genuine. She handed him the scrawled on napkin. "That's my cell number, call me and we'll talk about this again right." She barely had time to see him nod before the cab was moving off into the thick flow of traffic.


	4. First Meetings

_AUTHORS NOTE: _Well, here it is, the chapter where I (kind of) start to explain what's going on. Things should start coming together a little more speedily after this, although my actual time to write may decrease somewhat as I'm starting a new job on Tuesday. Anyway, hope you all enjoy and I'll be back with a new chapter again soon.

CHAPTER THREE: FIRST MEETINGS

_New York: 3:56pm_

The battered red transit van ground to a halt on the loose gravel, its vibrant colour a stark contrast to the dull grey walls that surrounded it. Dhul Fiqaar leaned forward in the passenger seat, his eyes scanning the empty tarmac yard that stretched out around him. Next to him Fahad, stirred uncomfortably his fingers locked tightly around the steering wheel.

"I don't see anyone." He said, shooting Dhul a worried look. "Maybe they're not coming."

"They'll be here." Dhul replied. "These aren't the kind of men to shy away from such a lucrative deal." Fahad shook his head.

"We shouldn't be trusting them. They have nothing to gain from this."

"I agree with Fahad." Abul said from the back of the van, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "We do not need their help, and they have nothing at stake. If they choose to betray us we will lose our opportunity."

"Don't be so stupid!" Dhul snapped, his anger flaring up. "They have money at stake, and to men like this riches are their truest cause!"

"Yet another reason why we should not be doing business with them." Fahad said, ignoring the dangerous glance Dhul shot him. "Men who would sell their souls have no sense of loyalty and no sense of honour." Abul gave a sage nod of agreement.

"We should leave." He said. "There are other sources we could use, more reliable ones that we know can be trusted."

"You are all forgetting one thing." Said a fourth voice from deep in the back of the van. Dhul gave an inward sigh of relief at the sound of it. The speaker leaned forward slightly fixing Fahad and Abul with a penetrating gaze. "I am our leader and I say this meeting will take place." His eyes narrowed threateningly.

"Do I make myself clear?" his voice was steady and unwavering. Supremely confident. Abul tried to hold his stare, but is defiance crumbled rapidly.

"I'm sorry Kadeem." He said, looking down at his feet. "I'm just worried. We have planned this for so long that if anything were to go wrong…" he trailed off when he realised Kadeem was no longer listening. Instead he'd shifted his attention to Fahad.

"And you?" he said quietly. "Do you accept my judgement?" Fahad managed to display considerably more backbone than Abul, holding that scarily steady gaze with an equally brash look of unbridled self-possession.

"I accept your judgement." He said, only the slightest hint of nerves echoing in his voice. "But I maintain that this remains a bad idea." The four sat in stony silence, Kadeem and Fahad's eyes still locked on one another. It took the sound of fresh wheels on the gravel to break them from their face off.

"They're here." Kadeem said simply as he twisted to open the rear doors. It took mere moments for the four of them to clamber from the van, their eyes blinking to become accustomed to the mid afternoon light. A newer, sleeker black transit van was sweeping across the tarmac toward them, shadowed closely behind by an old fashioned grey Mercedes. The two vehicles drew to a halt close by, their chrome chassis glinting brilliantly in the light.

Dhul's stomach was churning with nerves as the side door of the black van slid open, disgorging a group of men, each one visibly armed with a handgun of some sort. Dhul couldn't help but wonder how many other weapons were secreted about them. The comforting weight of his own berretta lent him some small amount of confidence. So far the numbers were even, but he didn't like to think about how much better trained these main would possibly be.

The door to the Mercedes lurched open as a world weary looking gentlemen clad in a black suit with matching black silk shirt clambered out. His hair was a stunning shade of silver, his widow's peak riding high on his head while a thin neatly trimmed beard stretched across his cheeks and jaw. While the suit obscured his build to a certain degree, it wasn't hard to tell that the man had once been in good physical shape, his physique only recently dulled by age. Dhul would place him somewhere in his mid to late fifties, his light brown eyes carrying a degree of experience and knowledge behind them that the young simply did not possess.

"Kadeem!" The newcomer exclaimed with mock affection as he crossed the gravel to stand face to face with Kadeem. He offered Kadeem his hand. "It is good to see you again. I only wish you and I could've had more time. I feel we would've had much to talk about eh?" His voice was heavily accented, Russian from the sound of it.

"Alas Kazimir, the hour of action draws near." Kadeem replied with a similar theatrical show of affection as he took Kazimir's hand in his own and began to pump it vigorously up and down, his knuckles whitening as he squeezed a little too hard. Kazimir made no sign that it bothered him.

"I'm afraid these must be our final dealings." Kadeem finished.

"Such a shame." Kazimir said, his apparent disappointment not really fooling anyone. "Nevertheless, soon the world will know of you and then I shall count myself proud to have known you personally." Dhul could barely believe how badly their feelings of contempt for one another were hidden. Kadeem gave an indolent half smile.

"The world will know nothing if we are not equipped to carry out our task." He said. "I take it you have brought what we agreed upon?" Kazimir nodded.

"But of course." He gave a snap of his fingers, at which two men clambered back into the van only to re-emerge moments later carrying three metal briefcases. Dhul was handed one while Abul took the other two.

"I hope you will not object to me checking the contents." Said Kadeem, the innocent tone of his voice barely disguising the veiled insinuation. Kazimir gave a martyred nod, as if his pride had been wounded.

"I understand. People these days can never be trusted am I right?" Kadeem gave a barely apologetic smile before nodding over his shoulder to Dhul and Abul. Dhul wasted no time, cracking his case open with a resounding click of releasing latches. He gazed down at the contents, a satisfied smile creeping slowly across his face.

"Is everything in order Dhul?" Kadeem asked, never taking his eyes of Kazimir whose face was fixed in an overly warm smile.

"Oh yes." Said Dhul as he closed the case, obscuring its contents from the world once more. "Everything's just right."

_New York CTU Branch: 4:12pm_

The New York branch of CTU was decidedly different in appearance to its glitzy glass and steel counterpart in LA. The centre of operations had been established in what was previously a small library built in the late 19th century, and it showed. While the building had been largely renovated to make room for the demands of a modern government agency, elements of the buildings original design still remained.

The central offices and computer stations had previously been the library's main hall, while the room's many bookcases had either been stripped out, or converted to act as cabinets for storage. Rows of wooden reading booths stretched up the middle of the room like some bizarre spinal cord, each one showing the care and attention to detail that only hand carved furniture could. The latest computer technology could be heard humming beneath the general hubbub of the office while the many glowing monitors lent the whole thing a strangely anachronistic feel. The offices of the senior agents and operations directors existed above the computers on a large wooden balcony accessible only by two delicately wrought iron spiral staircases at opposite corners of the room. Each office had been fitted especially, constructed from frosted soundproofed glass that prevented those outside either seeing or hearing what took place within. The balcony lent a tiered approach to the offices, where superiors would frequently be stood above the various technicians and analysts working below, a layout that had earned the main office the nickname of 'the pit'.

Right now Elizabeth Hudson was pacing around the balcony for what seemed like, and more importantly probably was, the fiftieth time in the last hour. She'd never been a patient woman, but that had often worked to her advantage more than anything else. She demanded immediate results and her fiery temperament usually meant that she got them. She was going to be in need of those particular qualities today, perhaps more than any other time in her life. How could the intelligence community have dropped the ball so badly on this one? How was it that the first word of this had only just filtered down to CTU? She shook her head as she stopped and planted her hands firmly on the solid wooden rail that ringed the balcony. It didn't matter now. Worrying about the mistakes made by other organisations and individuals could come later as it always inevitably did. Right now she had to worry about her own department and just how they were going to proceed. Just as she straightened, the large double doors below creaked open as Kim Bauer walked in.

"About goddamn time." Liz muttered to herself. She'd had Greg call the girl in nearly half an hour ago! It was a half hour they didn't have time to waste. She watched as Kim crossed the office, smiling and greeting various colleagues as she passed.

Liz didn't like Kim. There were various reasons why of course. Liz had spent a great deal of time and effort to get where she was today, and as a result sacrifices had been made, particularly with regard to her private life. Her husband had left her after two years, unable to cope with his wife's greater degree of success. Up until a year ago, she'd spent ten years as a member of the NYPD's SWAT team, before her recruitment to the new CTU branch. Kim on the other hand wasn't a well trained in field operations and was rising quickly in prominence purely due to her own contacts. She was a to all intents and purposes, a desk monkey and a young one at that.

Liz swept a hand through her own greying brown hair as Kim mounted the stairs beneath her.

"What took you so long?" she demanded as the girl reached the top of the stairs. "I ordered you here half an hour ago!"

"Sorry Eli…" Kim began before hurriedly correcting herself. "Liz." She finished. Liz hated for her full name to be used, but she decided to let it slide just this once.

"I came as quick as I could, but traffic out there is murder today." Liz gave a curt nod, not really accepting the excuse but letting it go anyway. They didn't have any more time today.

"Get inside my office. We need to talk." She said, turning on her heel and striding off across the balcony, Kim following close behind.

"Liz?" said Kim questioningly as they stepped inside the office. "What's going on?"

"Shut the door." Said Liz as she sat herself down behind her desk. Kim did as she was told. The moment the door was closed the sounds of the many computers and conversations died away, replaced by an almost complete silence. The only sound that filled the room was the low whir of the ventilation system.

"What's going on Liz?" Kim repeated. "What am I doing here? You wouldn't have called me in if it wasn't serious." Liz leaned back in her chair and blew out a long breath of air.

"You'd better have a seat." She said, nodding slightly toward another chair piled high with sheets of computer print out. Liz had many positive points as an operations director, but the ability to maintain an orderly workspace wasn't one of them. Kim crossed to the chair, moving the pile of paper to the floor before seating herself in it. She looked expectantly at Liz.

"You've heard of START IV right?" Kim nodded.

"Obviously. We've been racing against the clock to get the network up and running just to coincide with the signing." She said. Liz cocked her head slightly as she gazed levelly at Kim. Could the girl really be trusted with something as big as this? Everyone knew the stories of course, about Kim's life in LA and her role in the attempts on then Senator David Palmer's life and more recently the hotel bio weapon attack in LA. Liz wasn't sure if she believed them in their entirety though and Kim didn't talk about her past much. She gave a slight sigh. She didn't really have much of a choice in the matter.

"I received a file earlier today from CIA director Sikes. It concerns a recent covert operation in New Dehli." Kim frowned.

"India? What's this got to do with START IV?"

"The op went sour." Liz continued, ignoring Kim's question. "Nevertheless the CIA managed to gather enough information from it to confirm what I'm about to tell you." Kim leaned forward, her curiosity peaking.

"Liz, if you want me to do my job, you need to tell me what's going on." Liz gave another sigh.

"We have reason to believe that sometime today, an attempt will be made to assassinate the Indian Prime Minister during his visit to New York."


	5. Confrontations

_Authors Note: _First of all, sorry this chapter was a) so long coming and b) just so long in general. It was a difficult chapter to write as I'm trying to throw some of my first little twists into the mix to try and pep things up as well as introducing a fairly large splodge of exposition to clarify some points that I felt needed a little explaining (like START IV). Also to Monkeydude, I understand your concern, really I do. I did think long and hard about what devices I could use for this story, but an assassination just works so well. Season One was actually a little pedestrian in that it didn't really look into the political ramifications the assassination of the first real black candidate for American President would have. I wanted an event that could occur within relatively short time frame, and have profound affects on the whole world. An assassination of prominent figure fit the bill quite nicely. Don't worry though. I'm hoping this story won't retread much of the ground covered in Season One. There'll certainly be no 'it's all just revenge' story motifs, that much I can promise you. Anyway, thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed so far. You're really keeping me going on this one and I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter. By the way, yes I know the codename's a little corny but it's the best I could think of. Please accept my apologies. I promise I won't be using it too much : )

CHAPTER FOUR: CONFRONTATIONS

_New York: 4:20pm_

It always surprised Keeler just how vibrant the press core became the moment he stepped up to the microphone. It was as if the entire room suffered from some bizarre split personality disorder, one that was triggered by even the smallest sighting of him. One minute they were perfectly normal people, quiet and disciplined in their seats, some waiting patiently, others with their heads down taking notes. The next they were on their feet, shouting and vying desperately for his attention, their calm organised façade supplanted by one of desperate yet rehearsed chaos.

Right now, that chaos was reaching an almost feverish level of excitement. The relatively small conference room was a relative hive of activity as his press secretary took a couple of questions from a few select reporters, attempting to steer the direction of the questions in a way that would best serve his upcoming announcement.

Keeler could feel the exhaustion sweeping over him as he watched them all, from just around the corner, his presence carefully concealed from the press core. So much work had gone in to today. It had taken a year's worth of effort and careful diplomacy conducted by both America and Russia to bring about START IV, a year of blood, sweat, tears and sacrifice that had finally brought them to this day. Now all he wanted to do was sleep. Just as a well-deserved rest was within his grasp however, his efforts would now have to triple. This threat of assassination was a worrying development. How could the CIA have dropped the ball so badly! The potential ramifications were the attempt successful caused a cold shiver to run down his spine. He couldn't let it happen.

Up at the podium his press secretary was wrapping up the first round of questions, prepping the podium for his arrival. Keeler took a deep breath, exhaling it with a long drawn out sigh. He flexed his fingers and shook his arms limply in the odd little warm up ritual he used to perform before High School football games. Strangely enough it still relaxed him even to this day.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States." Said the press secretary, stepping back in a great show of yielding the floor. Keeler could put it off no longer. He strode into the room, shoulders held squarely back, spine straight, jaw held firm. It was a decidedly presidential walk, the kind no one beyond politicians and stage performers ever felt the need to master. He stepped up to the podium, doing his best not to wince at the sudden barrage of light and sound from a hundred flash bulbs and whirring camera shutters all launching into action at his appearance.

"Okay then folks, as I'm sure you all know by now, I'm a little busy today making the world safe for democracy…" the joke was bad but it had the desired effect. A low chuckle ran through the gathered reporters, easing the atmosphere considerably. "So if we could just this show on the road, I'd be very grateful." Barely before the last words were out of his mouth, the room erupted in a garbled mess of voices, each one struggling to make itself heard above the others. Keeler took it all in his stride as best he could. His nod of acknowledgement to a middle aged man toward the back of the room silenced the rowdy crowd of reporters in an instant.

"Go ahead Andy." He said, his voice now carrying the stern authority of the President.

"Mr President, your foreign policy has been criticised in the past for its practical non existence. Does the START IV treaty mark a turnaround for your administration's previously guarded stance on such issues as America's role in the Middle East and self sufficiency motivated trade practices?"

"Well," Keeler began, placing both of his hands on either side of the podium and leaning forward in what was to all intents and purposes the most earnest posture anyone could adopt, "I'm sure you all understand my desire to keep America safe. As Commander and Chief it is my duty to defend this country by any means I possess. In the past my administration has worked on securing America's own infrastructure. After all, keeping our great nation strong at home as well as abroad is of paramount importance to our nations continued defence. Now that we have succeeded in those goals, we have shifted our focus to ensuring the safety of our great nation overseas. START IV is the result of this." When it became obvious that no more was forthcoming, the room exploded with voices again. Keeler did his best to ignore the racket, instead focusing on a young plump woman in the second row.

"Janet." He said with a nod. The room fell silent once more as the woman asked her question.

"What is your response Mr President, to those accusing your stance on the START IV treaty as being a total misinterpretation of the current needs for America's foreign policy." A sly grin spread across Keeler's face as the woman stared levelly at him.

"No need to be so diplomatic about it Janet." He said a little too evenly. "We're all well aware of the many articles circulating in the popular press that are accusing me of cowardice by backing START IV. They say I'm playing games with the public, that I'm hiding from the real issues facing America's foreign policy." He lifted his head, no longer speaking solely to Janet, but now instead to the entire room.

"I would in turn remind you all of the threat posed to world peace and stability by the widespread proliferation of nuclear weapons, something that previous administrations foreign policies have been decidedly reticent to tackle. START IV will rectify this problem. It is by far the greatest step toward worldwide nuclear disarmament since the beginning of the START programme."

"If the START IV treaty is such a huge leap forward then why have we heard so little in regards to the specifics? Surely with the signing just hours away the American public deserves to know just what the President is preparing to sign on their behalf." Keeler recognised the voice as belonging to Brian Walker, a particularly irritating political correspondent for the New York Times who fancied himself to be the 'next big thing'.

"The answer is quite simple Brian." He replied almost a touch too condescendingly. "START IV is a considerably more complex peace legislation than its predecessors. As I'm sure you are aware, India and Pakistan have also committed to a reduction in their nuclear arms stockpile, a commendable show of goodwill on both their parts that will significantly benefit both regional and worldwide stability. However, agreeable levels of reduction have only just been finalised in last minute talks and…" before he had chance to finish however he caught sight of Eric Willis, his Chief of Staff motioning emphatically to him from the back of the room. A slow frown spread across his features.

"…If you'll excuse me ladies and gentlemen, I am needed else where. My Press Secretary will handle any further questions. I wish you all good evening and I dare say I'll see you all at the dinner later tonight." With that he stepped down from the podium under a fresh salvo of flashing light and desperately shouted questions.

"This had better be good Eric." He said, not even trying to hide his frustration as his Chief of Staff fell into stride along side him. "I was just warming up in there. Another couple of questions and they'd have been eating out of my hand and singing my praises from roof to roof."

"I'm sorry Mr President, but its Sikes." At the mention of the CIA director's name, Keeler drew to a sudden halt. He glanced conspiratorially from side to side before leaning in close.

"Is this about the threat." He said, his voice practically a whisper. Eric nodded gravely.

"Sikes wants permission to bring Doomsday on board with this one." At the mention of the codename, Keeler felt a shiver run down his spine. He'd never even met the man but the mere idea of someone like that working for the US government was more disturbing than he could put to words. He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly. He could feel a migraine coming on.

"I thought he was doing the ground work in New Dehli." He said. "Even if I was to give authorisation, he'd never be back here in time."

"Sikes has him on a plane bound for JFK already. All he needs is a green light from you for an operation on US soil." Keeler gave a troubled groan as he pinched his nose even harder.

"I had a horrible feeling you were going to say something like that." He muttered. "Does Sikes think really think he can be of use in this?"

"I don't think he'd be asking if he didn't sir." Keeler gave another deeper groan.

"Alright." He said finally. "Tell Sikes that he has my authorisation, but if that man gets up to his usual…" Eric gave a rapid nod of understanding.

"I understand perfectly sir. I'll let him know right away."

_New York CTU Branch: 4:35pm_

Kim's fingers tapped an uneven rhythm on the keyboard in front of her as she scanned the CIA documents that had been sent to her network partition. The face of a bearded Asian man stared back at her, his dark eyes burning with the fire of one possessed of his convictions. Technically speaking, she didn't have the security clearance to view these files or that man's face, at least not at present. It seemed that in the light of this developing crisis however, her data skills were being called into use decidedly early, not that she was complaining mind you. For the past week or so, she'd had little to do beyond hand holding some of the newer techs and the babysitting was becoming tiresome.

She leaned back in her seat, giving a long tired yawn as she did so, her arms stretching back over her head in a taught arc.

"Needing a little downtime?" the voice came from the door to her pokey little corner office. She gave a shrug as she turned to face the speaker. He was fairly tall although not excessively so, with a mop of sleek dark hair and decidedly grizzled features. One of his cheeks was badly scarred from burns he'd received to his face while his nose bent ever so slightly off centre, obviously as a result of a previous break. Nevertheless he managed to retain a strange kind of allure that had half the younger female office staff swooning over him whenever he was within ten feet of them.

Kim just didn't trust him.

"Not really, but a little privacy wouldn't go amiss." She said. Rob Cohen, the field ops director of CTU clapped a hand to his heart and began to act as if he were wounded, stumbling weak kneed into the office with a theatrical flourish.

"The agony! The acid tongued wit! How much more must I endure!?" He said in his best mock Shakespearean tones. Kim rolled her eyes at him as she span back to the keyboard.

"What are you doing here anyway?" she said. "I heard you were working undercover." She felt her chair creak under his weight as he leant against it.

"The Iron Maiden recalled me." He said with a touch of irritation. It was no secret around the office that there was little love lost between Elizabeth and Cohen. Elizabeth didn't like the way Cohen ran field ops, an area whose understanding she prided herself on thanks to her background in SWAT. Cohen similarly didn't respect her for precisely the same reason, having come from a background in the military, his most recent tour having been as a member of the Delta Force. He also had a problem with her temperament, her relatively short fuse being something he often cited as a recipe for disaster in the field. Kim sometimes found herself wondering what he would make of her dad.

"I take it from what's on your screen that the recall was for more than just tea and biscuits." He said, his interest audibly growing as he studied the screen from over her shoulder. The chair creaked again as he leaned forward for a better look. Kim reached up and flicked the monitor's power switch.

"Sorry." she said turning to face the bemused expression that was spreading across his face, "but I'm not supposed to let you see the file." He let go of the chair and took a step back, his arms folding securely across his chest.

"Any particular reason?" he said, the familiarity draining from his voice altogether. Kim felt a little more comfortable with that. Keep things professional, detached, it was the best way to get by in a job like this.

"You of all people should know the drill by now Cohen." She said with an exasperated sigh. "The file isn't cleared for your security level yet." Cohen frowned at her, his brow creasing darkly.

"Remind me again Kim, just which of us do you think has the higher clearance?" he said leaning in close, his eyes filled with barely restrained anger. "I mean last time I checked I was in charge of field ops and you… Well, you're just a tech to put it bluntly, and not even the best on staff. You just have a lot of connections is all…" Kim's eyes narrowed.

"Remind me again _Rob_," she said, emphasising his first name "just who you think _we _both work for? Elizabeth ordered me to prep this file for a briefing in ten minutes. She didn't order me to make its contents public knowledge! You want to know what's inside? You wait for the brief like everybody else." Cohen leaned back again, but the furious scowl didn't leave his face.

"Have you any idea how much work may have just gone up in smoke because of this?" he said. "I could lose the last six months all because of that frigid witch out there, and now I'm just expected to sit tight and wait for the briefing?" Kim gave a shrug.

"I'm sorry about that, but it really isn't my call to make, and you know it." Cohen began to turn to leave, shaking his head as he did so.

"Whatever Kim." He said. "It happens every time. Liz is just cutting me out of the loop yet again." Just before he reached the door, Greg burst in, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"You two really need to see this!" he said, his voice bursting with energy. Cohen threw him a questioning glance.

"Why?" he said, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "What's going on?" Greg grinned.

"It's Liz…" he began, but before he could finish the head of CTU's colourful language began to drift in through the open office door.

"What the fuck is all this about!?" Kim and Cohen rolled their eyes at one another and made a beeline for the balcony outside, Greg in hot pursuit. Elizabeth was stood in the centre of the office space surrounded by goggle eyed techs, hands on her hips and glaring furiously at three men who had just entered the building. The three men were stood with their backs to Kim in a rough triangle formation. The lead stranger was speaking to Elizabeth in a low even tone that reeked of self importance.

"Miss Hudson," he was saying "I'm here under the authority of CIA director Sikes to act as a liaison between our agencies over this matter."

"Oh no you don't!" she snapped sharply at him as he finished speaking. "I know your type! You say liaison but what you really mean is supervisor! Well let me tell you something. You don't just waltz in here with barely a word of warning and think that you can take over my goddamn unit!" Kim could feel a frown spreading across her face. She glanced at Cohen.

"What's going on? Why are CIA here?" she asked. Cohen gave a vague shrug.

"Not sure, but it looks like they want us on a leash. I'm guessing it's something to do with that file you were prepping. Of course I couldn't know for certain without being able to take a decent look at it." Kim gave a groan of frustration. At times Cohen could be like a dog with a bone. Once he had his teeth into something he never let go.

"It's something to do with START IV isn't it Kim?" Greg piped up, his face lit with a delighted grin at his guess work. Kim shot him a sideways glance that immediately wilted his enthusiasm. It was the kind of warning look she'd come to learn worked surprisingly well on him.

"Err… I mean it has to be, what with the signing and everything…" his voice trailed off as he looked away, completely unable to meet her eyes.

"Makes sense." Cohen nodded in agreement.

Kim's mind was racing. START IV, the Indian Prime Minister, and an assassination plot. How did she keep getting into these situations! Her whole life this past few years was beginning to resemble a bad Tom Clancy novel!

Her thoughts trailed off rapidly as one of the men turned his head slightly his gaze taking in the entire office, before craning his neck to look along the balcony. Finally his gaze settled on her.

Kim felt her mouth go bone dry as those familiar eyes met her own. From where he stood flanking the CIA agent, Tony flashed her an apologetic smile.


	6. Briefing

_Author's Note: _Sorry for the slow update everyone, but this chapter was an absolute bitch to write! So much plot exposition had to be reeled out here at the same time as setting up some of the inter character conflicts a little better. It's been giving me headaches all week.

Incidentally, please no one be offended by the involvement of certain ethnicities in this story. It's not my intention to be racist or enforce stereotypes. I'm just trying to tell a story. Extra advance apologies must go to any Pakistani or Indian people reading this story if I'm absolutely butchering your naming conventions. I've been trying to do research on how it works but if I've made any mistakes, please let me know and I'll do my best to revise the story to get it right.

CHAPTER FIVE: BRIEFING

_New York CTU Branch: 4:54pm_

The conference room of CTU wasn't exactly the warmest place Kim had ever been, but it was pretty close. Previously the main card index area, the conference room had been built much like the upper offices, cordoned off from its surroundings by thick soundproof glass. The place was like a giant indoor greenhouse, and with the amount of people in it at present the temperature was skyrocketing.

She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, sweeping the fine beads of perspiration cleanly away. She glanced around the room, briefly catching a dark glare from Cohen where he sat at the other side of the table. He'd made it abundantly clear over the last half hour that he didn't want her at the briefing. His wish had nearly come true when some of the data terminals had begun crashing out of the network. Any attempt to log them back on had so far been met by failure, and the techs working at them were being forced to transfer their data through the floppy drives. Cohen had leapt at the chance to keep Kim out of the briefing and Elizabeth hadn't been far behind. The two of them both had major reservations about bringing an untested agent in on such a crucial operation, but she'd managed to wrangle her way in anyway by setting Greg to work on the network. Truth be told, with Greg on the problem, the techs didn't really need her. Her strengths were geared more toward data collation and analysis, while Greg's skill with the network code was far in advance of her own.

"Okay then people, get ready to listen!" she watched as Elizabeth strode to the head of the table, her unusually broad shoulders set squarely in a pose that radiated authority.

"I'm sure you've all heard the rumours going round the office. No doubt Mr Martineer out there…" she gave a nod through the glass toward where Greg was working, "…has been up to his usual rumour mongering. Well now I've got the cold hard facts for you. You've all seen the articles in the news recently on the START IV treaty being signed tomorrow afternoon by the US, Russia, India and Pakistan. If you haven't, get back under the rock you must've been living under. You're no use to me here." A few furtive glances were cast around the room. They'd all been burned by her dark sense of humour at some point or another and no one ever took the risk of calling her on it anymore.

"What you won't have heard in the press is that we have strong intelligence to suggest a possible assassination attempt against Randeep Singh, the Indian Prime Minister." A low level murmur ran through the room as Kim pressed a key on her computer. The on screen display behind Elizabeth flickered for a moment as the next set of data was loaded.

"We believe the most likely suspect behind the assassination is this man." Said Elizabeth, motioning to the familiar photo of the Asian man as it snapped into view. "Kadeem bin Ibrahim. He is a former Captain within the Pakistan military, apparently trained in special operations by the British army through an officer exchange programme designed to aid diplomatic relations. During the late 90's he lead a supposedly unauthorised mission into Eastern Kashmir. His unit was discovered and came under heavy fire, eventually being forced to retreat. The incident was carefully controlled at a political level. India was appeased by his arrest 99 and subsequent imprisonment in 2000. In 2002 he succeeded in escaping from prison and went underground. Since then we've have at least three solid links between

Kadeem and various terrorist activities throughout the region, all of which have been centred around India and Kashmir."

Kim stared up at the reams of notes, photos and annotated maps plastered across the screen. She could feel Cohen's glare settling on her again. She set her gaze determinedly on the computer screen again. There was no way she was going to let him intimidate her. She was a part of this now and it was something he would just have to learn to live with.

"A recent intelligence gathering mission in New Dehli has uncovered some extra information we believe may prove useful." Elizabeth continued. Kim punched the same key as before and once again a new set of data flicked into view.

"We believe Kadeem is receiving possible financial and arms backing through this man." Elizabeth gestured to a grainy black and white photograph of a man Kim knew to be in his mid sixties. "Kazimir Vasilevich, a former KGB agent who, like so many of his ilk has recently fallen into the ranks of the Russian Mafia. The most recent data available on his activities list him as running a nightclub in New Orleans here in the US. The FBI were investigating him on suspicion of money laundering last year. Unfortunately he got wise to this and slipped underground."

"When this information came through we tried to trace his finances." Said the lead CIA agent. His name was Heller if Kim had caught it correctly. "Unfortunately the trail ran cold at a dummy import company he'd set up. We do believe however that the significant attention from the government over the last twelve months and his inability to move within local crime circles has put a considerable dent in his finances."

"What about their psychology?" Cohen asked, his eyes flicking back and forth as he took in the information projected before him. "I mean Kadeem's reasoning isn't hard to figure out. We all know that in the past there's been no love lost between India and Pakistan. Hard liner's were always going to cause trouble for any attempts they make to firm up diplomatic relations, but what about this Kazimir? What's he standing to gain from this?" Elizabeth cast a glance at the CIA agents.

"We're not sure." Said Heller. "We do know that Kazimir has been regarded in the past as something of a Cold War throwback. This could be an indirect strike by him against the USA. After all, were India and Pakistan to go to war, the repercussions would be significant."

The reasoning at work was sound, but something still didn't sit right with Kim. She'd been pouring over for almost an hour to prepare this briefing, and nowhere had Kazimir's nationalism been raised. From the looks on the faces of both Tony and Heller, they didn't really buy the reasoning either.

"So then," said Elizabeth, clapping her hands together loudly, "Here's the game plan. We'll be co-ordinating with Agent Heller and his men on this one. They already have teams in the field tracing leads on our potential hitters, so Cohen, I want regular status updates every thirty minutes. We don't want to be covering the same ground twice over simple missed communication…"

Kim's attention began to wander as Elizabeth reeled off the list of assignments and operating procedures. Out of the corner of her she caught a glimpse of Tony leaning gently against the glass wall behind Heller. He looked different to when she'd last seen him earlier in the afternoon. His face was drawn now; his eyes narrow and worried. She looked back at the projection screen, trying her best to keep calm. It wasn't working.

She was angry.

With him.

Why hadn't he told her earlier that he was here about this? Why hadn't he given her a heads up? Wasn't she owed that much? She could feel her jaw muscles clenching as she stared a little too intently at the screen in front of her. She let out a long low breath in a vain attempt to vent her growing anger.

"Kim." The sound of her name severed her train of thought with almost surgical exactness. Elizabeth was watching her.

"I want you to get your data teams organised. We're going to be tight for time on this one, and I need accurate and fast analysis. Think you can handle some real stress for a change?" Kim gave her a cold smile.

"Not a problem." She said levelly. Elizabeth gave a curt nod.

"Good." She clapped her hands together again. "Well, let's get our asses in gear, we haven't got all day here."

* * *

Liz slumped down into the chair at the head of the conference room table, as she watched the last of her team shuffle out of the door. All except one.

"C'mon then, hit me with whatever I've done wrong this time." Cohen crossed the room to lean against the table next to her, his arms folded across his chest as he continued to stare at the projection screen. Kadeem's face flickered down at them.

"It's a long list." He said flatly. "You sure you want to hear it?"

"The day's turned to shit already. No harm in making it a little worse." She replied. Cohen fixed her with what she thought was supposed to be a penetrating gaze. To her it just looked petulant.

"You didn't keep me in the loop again…" he began.

"I don't answer to you." She interrupted abruptly. "For a military man, you don't seem to have a lot of respect for the chain of command."

"…and you let Kim in on the whole situation with no prior consultation." He continued barely missing a beat. "I am effectively your second in command. The moment you hear something like this, I should be the first to know! ME Liz! Not some mid level desk jockey!" Liz flashed to her feet, her hand pounding furiously on the desk. She'd had enough of Cohen and his endless smug reprimands, his oh so superior attitude thanks to his military training.

"Were you born deaf or did you just develop selective hearing when you came to work for me!" she snapped savagely. "I told you I'm in charge here! I'm your CO Cohen, and you don't question my decisions! The next time you do, I'll make sure you're on the little bus back to your Delta buddies. Do you get me?" Her outburst didn't so much as cause him to flinch. She had to hand it to then man. He had balls of solid steel.

"We just lost at least half an hour." He said simply. He wasn't challenging her anymore, just stating fact. "I could've had our people in the field pulling strings, squeezing contacts…" Liz sank back into her chair and let out an exasperated groan. What bothered her wasn't the fact that she was right and he just couldn't see it. It was the nagging belief that the truth was probably the other way around.

"Anything else?" she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady this time. Despite their personal dislike of one another, she knew Cohen was good at his job and the advice he gave was frequently more useful than she would ever admit to his face.

"The half hour reports will slow us down." He said, seeming almost as glad as she at the opportunity to change the topic. Liz gave a resigned sigh.

"Not much I can do I'm afraid. A stipulation on the part of that prick Heller. He wants his people kept in the loop or else CTU resources will be reassigned. I think this is almost personal for them right now."

"Can't you try and talk him into letting us off the leash a little more? In a situation like this, time is something we can't afford to waste. I'm assuming of course that the assassination attempt will coincide with one of the Prime Minister's public appearances over the next day or so." Liz frowned.

"What makes you say that?" Cohen shrugged.

"I thought it was obvious. Greatest opportunity combined with maximum public impact. Events like the state dinner or the treaty signing would have men like this Kadeem practically licking their lips." Liz nodded.

"I'll see what I can do. Doubt I'll get anywhere though." She fixed Cohen with a warning look.

"Be careful around him." She said, her tone becoming deadly serious. "Don't buy any of that liaison bullshit he's been spinning. He's here to take charge, and I don't expect he'll play nice if we start causing him trouble." Cohen gave a slight chuckle.

"It's okay Liz. I've met his type before. I think I can handle him if we end up locking horns over this."

"Just be careful." Liz said, her earnestness taking Cohen aback. "Today isn't the day to pick a fight with the CIA. There're rumblings coming down from Division. Something's going on here that's got the higher ups worried, and when division gets worried, I think we should all start treading a little lighter."

"You're serious about this." Said Cohen, a worried frown crossing his face. "Jesus, just what the hell is so different about this Kadeem?" Liz looked back up the picture, Kadeem's defiant stare meeting her own. She shivered.

"I don't know." She said simply.

* * *

The spiral stairs rattled loudly as Kim hurried up them, her mind racing as she ran through how best to organise the data teams. From the sounds of things the sheer volume of incoming intelligence over the next hour would be incredible. She was halfway across the balcony to her office when she heard a second set of footsteps clanking hurriedly up the steps.

"Kim! Kim wait!" She turned slightly to catch sight of Tony jogging after her.

"What do you want?" she said, her eyes narrowing.

"I need to talk to you. It's important."

"So important you couldn't have told me at my apartment? Or the café?" Tony practically winced.

"I was going to tell you Kim. Really I was. But then I got there and… I just couldn't."

"Why not? Didn't you trust me? I know we were never really close Tony, but I thought you might've had a little more faith in me than that. Or is this about you and dad?"

"It's got nothing to do with Jack!" Tony said, his voice becoming desperate. "I came to you because I knew I could trust you! I remember what you and Jack said and did for me during the inquest and I knew that you wouldn't let me down. Could you please just hear me out?" She turned the rest of the way, her hands resting on her hips.

"Okay." she said guardedly. "But you're going to tell me everything. Do you understand me? Why CTU's been kept out of this for so long, what you're doing here with these spooks, everything." Tony glanced around warily.

"Don't worry, I will, but could we at least do this in your office?" he said. Kim gave him a confused look.

"Yeah I suppose, but why…" before she had time to finish, the staircase began to rattle behind Tony yet again.

"Kim!" it was Greg. "Kim! I need to talk to you!" She rolled her eyes with barely contained exasperation.

"Doesn't everyone." She said. Greg drew to a halt next to Tony, glancing at him uncomfortably.

"Am I interrupting something?" he said with the look of a man caught between a rock and a hard place. Kim took a long breath. Why her? Why was it always happening to her?

"No." she said as she exhaled. "What's the problem?" Greg shot Tony another uneasy glance before clearing his throat.

"It's the Network dropouts. They're getting worse." Kim took another deep breath.

"What do you mean 'getting worse'?" Greg discomfort seemed to increase tenfold.

"They're spreading. And it's not just the LAN anymore. We're losing internet connectivity and the Division hard lines."

"How fast?" Kim said, a queasy unease spreading through the pit of her stomach.

"Fast. I don't know what's causing it, but if it keeps up at this rate, I think CTU's systems will be completely isolated in about an hour's time." She gave a low groan. And to think she'd started out thinking this was going to be a good day.


	7. Misfortune

CHAPTER SIX: MISFORTUNE

_New York: 5:09pm_

Alec Womack and Bill Jackson stumbled drunkenly through the half empty apartment block. Despite their current state, it hadn't been hard to slink in past the building's landlord, a man decidedly more drunk than either of them. It had been a good week out on the scrounge, and some serious money had been coming their way. Hell, just yesterday they'd managed to net themselves twenty bucks and today they'd done almost as well by noon. If they'd kept at it through the afternoon they might even have hit forty.

Womack sucked happily on the cheap bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand, the liquid burning its way down into his chest, warming him to his toes. He let out a contented belch as Jackson swayed over to a nearby door. They knew the apartment block well; including all of the rooms that had been abandoned because of negligence by the buildings maintenance men (such as they were) and which of those rooms were safest to sleep in. It was quite a good set up they had, waiting for old Bryant to get drunk by the early evening so that they could sneak in and catch a decent night's sleep out of the cold of the approaching autumn.

Womack leaned against the crumbling plaster that coated the wall, trying in vain to read the graffiti scrawled in blue paint opposite him.

"C'mon ya old bastard." He said, his voice carrying an odd gurgling sound. "What's taking so long?"

"Door won't seem to open…" said Jackson, twisting the round door handle and straining hard against it. The doorframe creaked slightly under the pressure but otherwise refused to yield. "You reckon Bryant got wise to us? Changed the locks maybe?"

"Try turning the handle the other way." Said Womack, taking another swig from his rapidly diminishing bottle. Jackson gave him a look that seemed to suggest precisely where he could shove that handle, but complied all the same. The door swung inward silently.

"Ya see." Said Womack tapping at his temple with his index finger. "It's what's up here that counts more than what's in there." He pointed at Jackson's sweating arms with a broken toothed grin. Jackson gave a lighthearted growl and raised his middle finger.

"Nice." Chuckled Womack as he shuffled past, blinking slightly as he stepped across the threshold.

The room was unusually bright inside, a harsh green tinted light flooded across it's crumbling plaster walls. The light was emanating from a buzzing neon tube light mounted on a metal stand. The mattresses he and Jackson frequently slept on had been hauled upright to cover the room's only window, preventing any light from seeping through into to the outside world. In the very centre four Asian men were hunched over a foldout table that appeared to be covered in what looked like building plans, each appearing to be locked in a heated discussion. They began turning toward the door at the sound of Jackson's arrival.

"What the…" Jackson began as he caught sight of the strange men inside. For a moment the two groups stood in deathly silence, tension mounting rapidly. Eventually it fell to Jackson to break the deadlock.

"Hey shit heads!" he snapped, tottering drunkenly forward, his finger jabbing out at them accusingly. "This is our squat. You get me?" The strangers just stared back at him in silence, uncomfortable frowns flickering across their faces. Womack didn't like this. Something about these guys just didn't sit right. Why the hell were they in the middle of a decrepit old apartment building, pouring secretly over building plans? He could think of nicer places to do it. Nicer, but much more conspicuous.

He leaned forward, pulling nervously at Jackson's grubby sleeve.

"Hey, forget about it. We'll find somewhere else for the rest of the day." Jackson shot him a disbelieving look.

"No we fucking well won't!" He snapped angrily, shaking himself free of Womack's grasp as he turned back to the four men. "We always come here! This is our spot! Ours you hear me?" The furthest man from them gave Jackson a disdainful snort before looking back down to the plans, paying him no more attention.

"Hey!" Jackson's voice went up an octave, his fists balling up dangerously as he took another step closer.

"Hey, I'm talking to you motherfu…" He trailed off abruptly, eyes widening in surprise as three silenced guns were levelled at him.

"We don't have time for this." The man said, never once taking his eyes off the table. "Kill them both."

The first sounds of protest were barely out of Jackson's mouth when the muffled thud of a pistol shot reached Womack's ears. Warm blood erupted from the back of Jackson's head as the bullet tore cleanly through and out into one of the plaster walls. A second less well aimed shot clipped his jugular. A fine arterial spray arced through the air, painting both the nearby wall Womack's face with generous flecks of crimson.

He let out a croak of fear before bolting for the exit. He was out of the door and sprinting down the hallway before Jackson's body had even hit the floor. As he ran he barely heard the sound of third low thud as another gun was fired, the bullet lightly grazing his bicep. He winced as the pain shot up through his arm combining with his adrenaline to create a potent wakeup call for his senses that chased the drunken fog to the very corners of his mind. Behind him he heard shouts of alarm as the strangers gave pursuit, their feet pounding heavily over unevenly tiled floor. He reached out as he neared the corner of the stairs, his fingers wrapping tightly around the banister post to slingshot him into the stairwell. Half stumbling, half running, he pelted hell for leather down the square stairwell, dirt brown mack flapping madly behind him while all the while the sound of his pursuers drew ever nearer.

After what seemed like a heart pounding eternity, but what had in fact been little more than twenty seconds, he reached the apartment foyer, arms and legs flailing wildly as he dashed headlong for the front doors. The sound of his attackers pursuit fading away as he emerged into the busy early evening streets but that didn't slow him one bit. He ran for almost a full city block before the adrenaline began to fade and the pain in his arm dropped to a low throbbing pulse and even then he slowed only to a brisk walk. His breath was rattling hollowly in his chest, a lifetimes smoking taking its toll on his lungs, and at thoughts of Jackson just beginning to topple backward, he could feel bile rising in his throat.

He shuffled hurriedly through the crowd in a daze, never really noticing the alarmed looks being cast his way at the sight of his blood soaked face. What was he supposed to do now? Three men had just killed his only real friend and now here he was tramping forlornly through the streets with nowhere to go and no one to help. Womack had always hated his life and the way it had turned out, but never before had he realised just how isolated from the world around him he had become. With Jackson gone, he literally had no one beyond the other faceless men and women he saw day in day out in the queue for the charity soup kitchens and he seriously doubted any aid lay among them. He had no one; only Jackson and those bastards had killed him for absolutely no good reason.

He stumbled awkwardly into the mouth of an alleyway, his body doubling over as he wretched uncontrollably. The nervy adrenaline high he'd been riding was already fading, and now he could feel the biting mid evening air piercing all the way down to his bones.

He slumped uncomfortably against the wall, his thoughts moving in circles while the occasional shiver wracked his body. It took the arrival of the two police officers to stir him from his malaise. The moment they appeared at the mouth of the alley, he knew they'd come for him.

"Sir." The lead officer called out in as placating a manner as possible. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to come with us." Womack groaned. Why him he hadn't done anything wrong? All he wanted to do now was to crawl away into some dark corner and disappear. It wouldn't be hard. No one would miss a guy like him. But no, that would be too easy. Well he wasn't going to let them have him. If you're out in the open, then you're open to attack and he wasn't going to let those bastards catch him.

He scrambled hurriedly to his feet and bolted for the back of the alley. He never made it. The second policeman hit with perfect shoulder tackle, bundling him to the ground with almost no real effort. He gave a sharp hiss as he felt the man's knew crunching painfully into the small of his back.

"Get off me!" he yelled, his head whipping madly from side to side. "I didn't do anything!"

"You have the right to remain silent." The officer began as he fumbled for his cuffs.

"If you choose to waive that right then… Jesus!" the officer gasped as he caught sight of Womack's blood smeared face.

"Hey Carl!" he yelled over his shoulder "Check this out! Look's like the girl was right. We've got ourselves a live one here and no mistake."

"You don't understand!" Womack was almost whimpering as he felt the cold steel of the cuffs close around his wrists. "I didn't do anything! It wasn't me! Wasn't me at all!"

_New York: 5:28pm_

Kazimir slammed the phone angrily back onto it's cradle. If he had learned one thing from his days in the KGB it had been to never associate with amateurs. All right so the pay had been good this time and God knew he needed the extra capital right now, but he was finding it increasingly hard to believe that this Kadeem had any kind of military training, especially not special forces as he claimed! The man had botched his move from New Dehli to New York and lost one of his men in the process and now this latest disaster!

He clambered out of his chair and crossed to the drinks cabinet on the other side of his somewhat ramshackle office. He hadn't been operating in New York long, and it showed. Half his stuff remained in boxes littered untidily across the room, while his documents were piled haphazardly across his desk.

He opened the drinks cabinet and snatched up a bottle of Jack Daniels. No matter what his fellow countrymen might think, Kazimir couldn't abide the taste of vodka. It made him want to wretch. He poured himself a double, downing it in one go with a frustrated grunt. All the effort he'd gone through to secure them those resources, that equipment, and then the moment his back was turned they managed to go and get themselves seen by a pair of no good hobos! Now he had a body to dispose of and a wild eyed homeless man on the loose, all of which could spell big trouble were any of it traced to him.

Without thinking, he poured himself another double whiskey and crossed to the window that overlooked the club below him. The houselights were on as the preparations were made for what would probably be a rather profitable night. The thought of legitimate cash ringing in the registers did little to calm him though. The more he thought about it, the more worried he became. This screw up could unravel the whole agreement he'd made, but he couldn't risk not calling them. If they found out without him telling them… well it wouldn't be overly pretty that was for sure.

He downed the drink with a slightly more sombre sigh this time, then, with the look of a condemned man hanging across his face, he turned back to his desk and reached for the phone once again.


	8. Startup

CHAPTER SEVEN: START-UP

_New York CTU Branch: 5:41pm_

"So let me get this straight." Elizabeth was saying as she stood behind Kim and Greg, hands on hips as she watched them clicking away at the computers in front of them. Kim rolled her eyes. With everything that was going on, she really didn't need Elizabeth stood over her shoulder offering up her own particular brand of 'constructive criticism'.

"It's the eve of one of the most significant disarmament treaties in the last century, we've got an assassination threat against one of the delegates, and now our computer network, the network you assured me was finally bedded in and bug free, is falling down around our ears."

"I don't know what to say." Kim said, leaning back in her seat and scrubbing a hand through her short-cropped bob of blonde hair. "This shouldn't be happening. We had the whole thing nailed down…"

"Except you obviously didn't!" Elizabeth snapped in frustration. "Christ Kim! This is exactly the worst possible thing that could happen to us right now. It cripples our ability to send and receive any data, not only from the outside, but internally as well!"

"You don't need to remind me Liz." Kim said, trying to keep the frustration out of her own voice and failing miserably. "I know exactly what this means for us, and we're doing our best to fix it." Elizabeth knuckled at her forehead, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Okay then." She said from between gritted teeth. "How long?"

"Until what?"

"YOU FIX THE FUCKING THING!" Elizabeth practically screamed at her.

"LOOK LIZ!" Kim snapped back, her anger at Elizabeth finally boiling over. She was sick and tired of Elizabeth treating her like some kind of second-rate secretary whose only purpose around the office was to swan around looking pretty and actually achieving sweet FA.

"I'm doing the best I can," She continued, her tone no less furious but at least a little quieter now, "but I can't just snap my fingers and have the whole thing working again like nothing was ever wrong! Even if I knew what was causing this I couldn't get it back in any kind of working shape for a good few hours, and I certainly couldn't get it back to within Divisions operating specs for at least a week!"

"Ahem…" the cough had come from just behind Elizabeth, the owner clearly not approving of what he saw. Kim span from the computer screen to face whoever it was and immediately wished she hadn't. It was Heller. Tony and Cohen stood nearby only a couple of yards behind him.

"What is it?" Elizabeth said, her voice seething with irritation as she gave Kim one of her patented 'I'll deal with you later' glares.

"I was about to tell you that your man Cohen here seems to have come across a promising lead."

"Why didn't he come to me himself?" Said Elizabeth, her gaze travelling straight through Heller and fixing laser like onto Cohen. The man didn't so much as twitch.

"I think he would've done." Heller replied icily. "But it seemed you two were having a rather heated discussion and I didn't think you should be interrupted." The look of derision in his eyes was enough to wither both Kim and Elizabeth at a glance. Elizabeth fixed him with a somewhat deflated stance of defiance.

"What was the lead?" she said, her voice a touch too controlled now. Kim sank a little lower into her seat suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Elizabeth had lost this round to Heller, and it didn't take a genius to work out just who would be taking the blame for it when things calmed down.

"It would seem our Mr Kadeem might have inadvertently given away his location." Heller gave Cohen a slight nod.

"About ten minutes ago I got call from a source inside the NYPD. After the briefing I called him and asked him to give me a heads up if anything unusual happened. Turns out something did. Some girl called in a sighting of a homeless man wandering through the Upper East Side with blood all over his face. Two officers actually managed to find the guy a couple of minutes later and brought him in. He's being held on suspicion of murder."

"What's any of this got to do with Kadeem?" Elizabeth said, her limited patience already seeming to wear thin.

"I'm getting to that." Said Cohen, a little put out by her interruption. "Apparently, the guy, called Womack incidentally, claims the blood belongs to friend of his. He says the two of them had a disagreement with some Asian men about a squat they normally use. The men pulled guns on Womack's friend, Womack barely got out alive."

Kim couldn't believe how excited Elizabeth looked. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

"Where?" she said hurriedly. "Where did he see these men?" Cohen shook his head.

"He's not saying. Keeps ranting on about needing to be safe apparently. Refuses to say anything else until he's talked to a lawyer and has guaranteed police protection. I was gonna head on over to the precinct though. See if I could get any more out of him."

"Right." Elizabeth nodded. "Sounds good. Get right..."

"I do have a problem though." Cohen butted in. This time it was Elizabeth's turn to look annoyed by the interruption.

"Which is?" she said.

"The network. If I'm heading out into the field, I'll probably need to be sending information back for analysis."

"And you can't use a phone for that?"

"Not if it's something like a thumbprint or a photo for ID." Cohen replied. "I need a secure connection to CTU and right now that's something we don't have."

"I could do it." Said Kim. She nearly laughed out loud at the look of outright alarm on Elizabeth's face when she said that. Maybe this would show her she could be more than just the girl who put together mission briefings and stood around offering advice to the other people who were actually doing some work.

"What do you mean?" said Cohen with a frown.

"It's easy." She said. "Me and Greg set up a clean system here and set up a secure line between the two. I can maintain the line integrity and transfer the data from my end. Greg can transfer the data to the other systems down here. It'll be slow on the analysis front since we'll be USB memory sticks to shunt stuff around but it's better than nothing right?" Elizabeth was shaking her head.

"Not a chance in hell." She said. "Ignoring for the moment your lack of any real field training, I just can't spare you. I need you here to try and get the network back online."

"Greg can do it." Kim said, batting Elizabeth's argument aside without even pausing for thought. "We all know he's the real whiz with the network anyway, and I'm not completely inexperienced in the field." She tried not to look at Tony as he raised an eyebrow at her. Even she had to admit that she wasn't exactly on stable ground here. A couple of incredibly unlucky days and one miserable attempt at body doubling hardly constituted an experienced field agent. Elizabeth however, was still shaking her head.

"We don't have time to waste debating this." Kim pressed. "We need to get some kind of lead going here, and I can help. C'mon Liz, you know it's the right decision."

"Agreed." Heller said. "Miss Bauer, I want you with Cohen on this one." Elizabeth whirled around to face him.

"What did you just say?" she demanded.

"I said I agree with Miss Bauer's proposal. She'll be going with Cohen, as will Agent Almeida here."

"Now wait a minute!" Said Cohen, also whipping around to face Heller. "I never agreed to anything like…"

"A CIA presence on this operation is non negotiable Cohen." Heller said imperiously. "Get used to it, or you can go back to chasing those rinky-dink white trash nationalists you were deeming so important earlier today." With that he turned and strode off between the ranked computers, his passage marked by slack jawed stares from goggle eyed techs.

Tony gave a sheepish shrug before setting off after him.

"You see what I mean." Said Elizabeth, her shoulders practically quaking with fury as she and Cohen exchanged unhappy looks. "Liaison my ass!"


End file.
